Dear Cary - Dyan Cannon [122]
Out of habit, I reflexively went to the bathroom to purge after the first couple of meals, but I stopped myself. It no longer felt right, but I still struggled with it. The compulsion began to lessen, though it would take months more of determination to abandon it completely. However, I knew I needed to get my strength back, and to do that I needed to keep what I ate. Over the weeks I made progress and started gaining weight.
I started to feel my mind lightening and I really started to feel like I was in the safe place I needed to be, as Dr. James had said so emphatically. I started to trust Dr. James, as well as the other facilitators. I guess that was what they called progress.
One night when I was fast asleep, a bolt of light from the hallway shot across the floor. I opened my eyes, then closed them again, thinking it was a nurse who’d come in by mistake. The door closed, and then I felt the covers being pulled off of me and I looked up to see that midwestern orderly who had been so nice and gotten me my cheese sandwich. Before I knew it, he pushed my shoulders to the mattress, climbed on top of me, and started kissing me. When he reached for my legs, I grabbed his wrist and hissed into his ear, “Get out of here right now or I’m going to scream.”
“Why would you do that?” he grunted. “I work here and you’re crazy. Who’s going to believe you?”
I screamed like a banshee. Farm Boy rolled off the bed onto the floor, sprang up, and bolted. A nurse rushed in, asking what had happened, and I told her.
“I saw him running out of your room,” she said. “Don’t worry! We’ll take care of it. You’re safe now.”
Yeah, right. I shoved a chair against the door and lay in bed all night, unable to sleep. Was I ever going to find a safe place?
Dr. James came by at about nine in the morning. When he came in, he saw my packed bag resting by the door.
“I’m sorry, Dyan,” Dr. James said. “You’ll never see that orderly again.”
“I want out of here,” I said. “Now.”
He sat down on the chair I’d blockaded the door with. “Dyan, I am as upset as you are by what happened last night, and I accept full responsibility,” he said. “I am taking every measure, for your safety and that of all the other patients, to make certain nothing like that ever happens again. I understand you wanting to leave, but you’ve been making good progress. And I’ll work with you to the best of my ability to make sure this doesn’t result in a setback for you.”
“I was almost raped last night,” I said.
“But thankfully, you weren’t. A lot of terrible things can ‘almost’ happen. But you can work with it, if you try.”
“How?” I asked skeptically.
“It’s like we’ve been talking about. We can’t change the past and we can’t control the future. What happened is over and done with, and thank goodness you’re all right. You can turn it into either a setback or a stepping stone.”
“You can’t keep me here,” I said, persisting, though I wasn’t actually sure whether he could or not.
“That’s true enough. But, Dyan, this unfortunate incident aside, aren’t you starting to feel more stable?”
I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to admit it was true.
“Please stay with this, Dyan. You’re doing so well,” Dr. James said. “Stick with the truth. It won’t let you down.” He turned and left the room.
I looked at my bag.
I’ve got to leave, I’ve got to get out of here, I thought. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me. And then suddenly, I stopped. Hold it. Hold it. Hold it. What is the truth here? I broke down, that’s the truth. But, Dyan, they’re not trying to lock you up and throw away the key. You’re not Elsie and this is not Fishponds. And there are people out there who love and care about you. Your mom, your dad, Addie, Mary . . . most of all your daughter—she needs you! And then I stopped and thought,